


Phantasmagoria

by VelkynKarma



Series: Friends in Space Places [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, General Creepiness, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Nightmares, Pidge | Katie Holt-centric, Post Season 2, Season 2 compliant, Season 2 spoilers, Shiro (Voltron)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10059878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelkynKarma/pseuds/VelkynKarma
Summary: They'd scanned the whole planet. There wasn't any sentient life, and nothing big enough to be dangerous. But Pidge can't help but feel like something's following her...and she's pretty sure she's not alone anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Platonic VLD Week Prompt #5: Don't Let Go.
> 
> I didn't get my fill of the creepy stuff with _Pillar in the Dark,_ so here's round two.

Pidge has never seeing a palace quite like this one before.  
  
She’s used to the Castle of Lions, of course. It’s beautiful and elegant with its sophisticated technology and pleasing aesthetics all wrapped into one. Zarkon’s Galra ship had been twisted and ugly, but intimidating, and something like a palace in its own right. And there have been half a dozen other interesting pieces of architecture seen throughout the galaxies since, from the strange underwater palace where she helped pick up Lance and Hunk, to the Olkari cities and their combination of technology and nature.  
  
But this one, it’s something else entirely. Because it might have the same _themes_ that the Olkari favored, blending nature and civilization seamlessly, but it’s done in such a different way it’s almost fascinating.  
  
The palace is a tree. Actually, to say it’s a tree is underselling it, really. The entire city they’re in rests in the branches of the massive _llissiil_ trees, which are larger than most skyscrapers back on Earth. The branches alone are wide enough to encompass a six-lane interstate freeway, and the trunks are so massive around you could probably fit several million-dollar houses in them naturally with room to spare. The trees are tall, too, and even when Pidge is walking on branches she can see clouds at her level. The thick trunks disappear miles down into a noxious-looking purple mist that their scanners say is toxic, and nobody knows what’s at the bottom anymore, not even the Alteans.  
  
But the palace—the palace is even bigger than that. It’s definitely the largest tree she’s come across yet while exploring this city, at least five or six times around as the other already massive trees. The boughs are twisted and shaped artfully, naturally creating the wings and roofs of the palace, but at the same time elegantly woven to create a safe living space. Pidge has been learning to appreciate nature a little more ever since meeting the Olkari and bonding closer with the Green Lion, and this…this really is beautiful.  
  
Honestly, she feels like she’s wandered into the middle of some elven city in a dungeons  & dragons campaign, or something similar. Matt would be screaming if he could see this place.  
  
It really is a pity everything here is dead.  
  
Allura and Coran had wanted to re-visit the planet of Lillisseth after the defeat of Zarkon and Shiro’s recovery. With the sudden threat of the splintering Galra Empire, they had thought it best to seek out old allies, and the Llillise were amongst some of Altea’s strongest. The royal families of both planets had formed an alliance long before even Allura had been born, and Allura had hoped to reach out to them now to see if they would assist the Voltron Alliance with defeating the Galra Empire’s splintered factions.  
  
But arrival at the planet had put a damper on their spirits. Like many things the Alteans remembered from ten thousand years ago, the Lillisseth had changed. Unlike the Unilu, who had evolved, the Lillisseth appeared to have gone extinct. The planet was there, but it was devoid of any sentient lifeforms.  
  
There weren’t any records that Allura or Coran could find to explain the disappearance. And the Lillise had been close allies, once. The Alteans wanted to at least know what had happened to the civilization. Had the Galra destroyed their people? Had they been harvested for resources? Had something else happened to them entirely? Had anyone escaped?  
  
So the team had headed to the capital city, high up in the boughs of the massive trees that covered the entire planet. They’d taken the Red and Green Lions—the smallest, and most able to balance on the branches—and then split up to explore the ancient city, with the goal of meeting back at the Lions after three vargas to report their findings.  
  
Most of what Pidge had seen since wandering off on her own had been a bit depressing. The massive trees looked beautiful, but also appeared to be withering. The blanket-sized leaves they produced looked splotchy and gray, and tattered in some places. The bark beneath her feet and on the trunks was brittle and cracked easily. The buildings nestled in the branches—what looked like they had once been homes and small shops and businesses—were in disrepair and had clearly long since been abandoned. There were bits and pieces of objects in them that hinted at people once living there—broken crockery, shattered furniture, the remains of tools and toys. But the people themselves were long gone, and clearly had been for centuries, if not millennia. It’s like walking through the ruins of a ghost town and realizing it’s the remains of an ancient civilization, and it’s a little unsettling.  
  
But for all her searching, Pidge doesn’t any kind of clue as to _what_ happened here, other than some kind of disaster. The people are gone, for certain, but it’s still not clear if it was because of a Galra attack, or some other calamity. There’s plenty of evidence for a sudden, fast exit, at least. And Allura reports that the massive ports to the far south that used to hold spacecraft are completely empty, without even the rotting shells of abandoned craft, which would imply the people left a long time ago. But whether they left willingly or in chains is still in question.  
  
But a palace—now that might have some better input. Whatever kind of ruler they had here, surely they would have had some kind of details about an attack, or records of reasons for their people to leave suddenly and en masse. At least, she hopes so.  
  
“I think I found something, guys,” Pidge says over the comms. “There’s some kind of castle or something built in the hollow of a huge tree at my location. They might have records or something here. Or maybe some tech I can interface with.”  
  
“Good work, Pidge,” Shiro answers over the comms a moment later. “Start checking it out. We’ll finish up our sweeps in the rest of the city and converge on your location if we don’t find anything else.”  
  
Pidge taps on her gauntlet and glances over the map she and Coran had compiled with the B.L.I.P. tech scanners. The palace is to the far north of the city, where the sun rises from on this planet. The others are ranged all over the city, other than Coran, who’s still on the Castle of Lions maintaining watch and air support. Allura is to the far south, Keith and Hunk to the East, Lance to the West, and Shiro is the next closest to her at the center. They might be a while, especially if any of them find anything of interest.  
  
Oh well. More for her to discover first. She grins and runs up the natural bark steps into the palace proper.  
  
It’s like walking into a hollowed out tree trunk, and the inside feels even bigger than it looks on the outside. There’s a massive open foyer or _something_ right at the front, with natural ramps sweeping up and away to either side, and leading to deep tunnels or hallways that branch off farther into the tree. Everything looks like it was once fashionable and shaped for living in, but at the same time it all forms naturally, in intricate and elegant shapes that almost look man made but are unquestionably not.  
  
Once upon a time, it might have been as wondrous as the entrance to the Castle of Lions is now. But like everything outside, the inside appears to be in disarray as well. The petrified bark and wood of the floors and ramps appears to be chipped and broken, and several of the hallways look like they’ve collapsed. There’s several twisted, vine-like objects in the middle of the floor that Pidge thinks might have once acted like chandeliers, but they’ve long since collapsed, and when she touches one it crumbles immediately into dust. There’s a musty smell that gets stronger the farther in she walks. Dark, mossy ivy crawls all over the bark-walls and ceilings, and she trips on it where it’s curled on the floor.  
  
It’s sort of sad to see it all, really. Pidge never knew these people, and yet the way they’ve faded away and vanished into history is a little depressing. She can only imagine how awful this must be for Allura and Coran, who probably had friends amongst this race ten thousand years ago.  
  
But these people are long gone, and there’s nothing Pidge or any of her friends can do for them, unless some of them managed to escape. What they _can_ do is find out what happened to these people, and if possible, prevent that disaster from happening again on other planets. And maybe if someone did get away, they can rescue them or provide assistance, if they can find out where they went. So Pidge picks the nearest tunnel and starts exploring.  
  
She doesn’t find much. The palace is more decorated than the simpler dwellings outside, but everything is so delicate and fragile. Beautifully woven tapestries burst into dust at the slightest breeze or movement. Old furniture cracks easily. Doors fall inward as soon as Pidge tries to push them open. Even the computer consoles she finds six hallways in are beyond interfacing with; it’s been so long since they’ve been used or maintained, the mossy ivy that’s everywhere inside the palace has grown inside and ruined most of the circuitry. Pidge knows the Olkari value the integration of technology and nature, and she’s learned a lot from them, but there’s only so far one can take that philosophy, and this is far beyond that. She gives up after a frustrating half hour of trying to manipulate the consoles, to no success, and pushes still deeper into the palace proper.  
  
The smell gets worse the farther in Pidge goes. The musty scent grows a little more sickening, and she can start to taste it in her mouth, coating her tongue. She coughs a little, but presses deeper. The important stuff, if there is any, is almost certain to be farther in, where it’s more easily protected.  
  
She’s another hallway further in before she has the unsettling feeling that she’s being watched.  
  
The feeling comes on her suddenly, in the way she feels the hairs on the back of her neck prickling, and the way she feels eyes boring into her skull. She whips around, hand lowering to her armor, running her fingers over the indicator lights where her bayard is stored. But there’s nothing behind her, and it’s a straight hallway for quite some distance.  
  
“Guys?” she asks slowly. “Is that you?”  
  
“Pidge?” Shiro asks over the comms. “Something wrong?”  
  
“I…no, I thought I heard something, but I guess I was wrong,” Pidge says after a moment. She gives the hallway behind her an odd look, and then turns back to her exploration.  
  
But she feels it again, less than thirty seconds later—that uneasy, inexplicable feeling that she’s being watched. And this time she swears she hears a faint skittering behind her, as well. This time she does summon her bayard as she whips around, raising the sparking weapon warningly. “Okay, very _funny_ guys. Get out here already. Lance? Hunk? This isn’t funny.”  
  
“Wha?” Lance asks over the comms, and there’s genuine confusion in his voice. “Get out of where? I’m still over in the West sector. I think I found some town hall with notes or something and I’m scanning them. Did you come over here, Pidge?”  
  
She hadn’t, and she doesn’t hear Lance’s actual voice in the halls, only his voice over the communication network.  
  
“I’m over to the East still,” Hunk agrees. “Me and Keith found a military barracks or something we’re looking through. Pidge, you okay? You sounded kinda spooked.”  
  
“I…no, it’s fine. I’m fine. I thought you guys were playing a trick on me.”  
  
“But if it wasn’t Lance or Hunk, and you heard something, who is it?” Keith asks. Pidge can all but hear the frown in his voice. And it’s a good question, really. Allura, Keith and Shiro aren’t the type to sneak up on her and play pranks, not when she’s armed with a taser and they’re on a mission. The uneasy feeling in the back of Pidge’s mind starts to grow stronger, and she feels the weight of it a little heavier in her chest.  
  
“I’m closest,” Shiro says. “I’m coming to your position. Pidge, be careful.”  
  
“No! No, you don’t have to do that. It’s fine. I’m totally fine. I’m just jumping at noises. It was probably just some bugs or something. This place is a little creepy, is all.”  
  
“I’d feel better if you had backup,” Shiro says bluntly. “I’m coming. Be cautious.”  
  
Pidge sighs, but there’s no stopping Shiro when he gets that tone, especially when it’s regarding somebody’s safety. Still, he hadn’t said she ought to get out of the building. She can still explore while he heads in her direction.  
  
That feeling of being watched never quite goes away, and Pidge doesn’t holster her bayard again as she moves, preferring to err on the side of caution. It’s getting darker the farther back she goes into the palace, anyway, and the green energy blade doubles as a glow stick, illuminating the gloom. But the shadows start to press in as she turns the corner into another broken looking hallway. And as they start to get thicker, Pidge feels like the strange sensation is changing as well.  
  
She doesn’t just feel like she’s being watched. She feels like she’s being _stalked._  
  
She freezes at the corner where the two hallways intersect, and whips around, raising her bayard for light. She swears she hears the soft scuff of movement, and the tiniest of slithering noises. But there’s nothing there—no eyes in the dark, no alien slipping out of the shadows, no frightening silhouettes. It’s all in her head. She knows that. Still, she has to fight back the urge to ask Shiro what his ETA is in a shaking voice.  
  
_No, you’re better than this,_ she tells herself firmly. This is completely irrational. There’s nothing to be scared of. There’s nothing _here._ She looked over the B.L.I.P.-tech sensor results with Coran herself. No sentient life on the planet, and the few life-forms it did sense were largely harmless…small animals, various forms of organic life. Nothing big or scary enough to stalk her through the shadows of an abandoned palace. She swallows, licks her lips, and forces herself to continue onward.  
  
The creeping, mossy ivy is thicker down these hallways. The vines are as thick as her thumb now, and crawl all over the walls and ceiling, and are strewn all over the floors. She trips on a few of them as she walks, unable to see them well in the dark even with the light of her bayard. The feeling of being _hunted_ grows stronger every time she stumbles, and she feels inexplicably nervous about appearing off balance and vulnerable in front of _whatever_ it is.  
  
_It’s nothing,_ she insists. _There’s nothing there. Nothing!_  
  
She turns a corner, and lists slightly to the left. Everything feels _off_ here, suddenly, and she puts out a hand to steady herself against the vine-encrusted walls. It takes her a second to realize everything is just marginally skewed to the left, tilted ever-so-slightly, and it’s putting her off balance. It reminds her of those fun-houses at amusement parks and carnivals, where they deliberately alter the horizon line and points of reference just to mess with one’s brain, just to make it feel like the world is a little too sideways to be normal. Pidge used to love those, when she was younger, loved the way the brain could be so easily tricked, found it so fascinating. Now it’s alarming, and makes her feel dizzy and disoriented.  
  
And still that something is _watching_ , stalking after her silently. Waiting for her to show weakness. Waiting for the kill.  
  
No. No, it’s _fine_. It’s completely fine. This palace is over ten thousand years old, she’s sure, and it hasn’t had a race to tend to its natural components in millennia. The walls are probably just sagging. Nothing is wrong.  
  
But she can’t help but find her breathing comes a little faster as she pushes forward and explores.  
  
There aren’t as many rooms down here, now, and what’s left appears to be residential suites; big, wide sets of rooms just as broken down and abandoned as everything else, but with even fancier shattered furnishings and crumbling decorations. The vines run rampant in these too, and the smell is just as thick in them. It makes Pidge want to gag, and she tries breathing through her mouth to avoid the smell. The air doesn’t taste much better, though.  
  
But the rooms are…disquieting. There’s cobwebs now, thick and white. At first they exist only on the fringes and in corners, like the rooms just haven’t been cleaned in too long. But as Pidge progresses the webs start to get bigger, stretching farther, creating intricate nets and weaves that are just a little too large to be anything but unsettling. And there’s too many places for things to hide. More than once Pidge swears she sees something flick past out of the corner of her eye, or catches sight of something crouching in the shadows. She can hear more scuttling behind her, always behind her, or a soft slithering noise, or a very soft scraping that sounds so far away but sends a chill up her spine regardless. Three times she sees a silhouetted shape looming out of the shadows in a doorway, or behind a chair, or next to a broken wardrobe, but when she turns to look closer in a panic and raises her bayard for light, the shape is gone.  
  
After the third one, Pidge is starting to think maybe her uneasiness _isn’t_ as ridiculous as she first thought. Her heart is running faster now, and her breath is shallower, coming in shorter pants. The stench of the place is awful in her nose and mouth. She swallows, and before she can think twice, she whispers over the comms, “Shiro?”  
  
She has to speak quietly. That feeling of being _hunted_ is too strong now, and she’s seen shapes in the dark. She feels like she can hear a faint whispering now, so distant, almost inaudible, murmuring, _get out, leave now, run away little pest, run little snack, run until you are tired_ , and she can’t give it any ideas about where she is.  
  
The comms crackle to life, and Pidge has never been so relieved to hear Shiro’s voice. “Pidge? I’m listening. Are you okay?” And she must have let more of her worry into her voice than she realizes, because his response is calm and patient, with a touch of concern.  
  
“I…” Honestly, she doesn’t know why she called for Shiro, exactly. He’s not there. There’s nothing he can do. It had been stupid. But she doesn’t want to be alone anymore, especially not in this place. It’s not interesting anymore. It’s frightening. “Do you…when…”  
  
“I’m almost there, Pidge,” Shiro answers. His voice is still calm and controlled. It’s soothing when she doesn’t feel any kind of calmness at all anymore. “Five more minutes. Can you hang on that long?”  
  
_Weird question,_ she realizes. He knows something’s wrong. “Yes,” she answers, although her voice is shakier than she’d like.  
  
Five minutes. She can make it five minutes.  
  
_Get out,_ comes that little voice in the wind. There’s another scraping noise behind her, and she jerks around, alarmed, but there’s nothing in the shadows. Still, the cold little whisper persists, and the scuttling shifts to behind her. _Get out, little morsel. Run, run, run!_  
  
Pidge doesn’t quite _run_ to the doorway leading out of that bedroom suite, but it’s a close thing.  
  
She’s had it with being alone in this place. To hell with what everyone else thinks. She doesn’t care if the rest of them think she’s a coward for wanting to flee, or if they call her a hypocrite after all the crap she gave them about the Castle of Lions being “haunted.” This place is _wrong._ And she wants no part of it. If she leaves now and starts heading back the way she came, she can meet Shiro halfway.  
  
_You shouldn’t be here,_ comes a rasping whisper, right in her ear. She feels the faintest trace of breath on the back of her neck, the sensation of something dragging along her neck and shoulder like nails. _You don’t belong here, little morsel. Get out of here!_  
  
And something deep in her head kicks into gear and screams, _Run!_  
  
She bolts. Back the way she came, tripping on thick, wrist-sized vines and stumbling back to her feet, bayard almost forgotten in her hand. She swears she hears laughing behind her, in the whispers, but it’s buried in a strange clicking noise, and soft, hissing breaths that seem to echo behind her. The feeling of being stalked has progressed, and she knows now she’s not just being followed, but actively hunted now. Something is playing with her. Something is hungry.  
  
_Run, little morsel. All the more delightful when you collapse in terror. So sharp. So sweet. Run, run, run!_  
  
Pidge gasps as she skids awkwardly around the corner, back the way she came. This turn, and then two lefts and a right, and she’ll be—  
  
But path she’d taken before is gone. The hallways she traveled to get here don’t exist anymore. It’s just one long corridor with no branching paths, only the thick mossy vines and that godawful stench.  
  
_No,_ she thinks, confused, heart pounding in panic. _No, I know I came this way. I_ know _I did. This was the way, what’s happening?_  
  
The noises come again from behind her. The scraping of claws along the wall. The slithering of cloth over vines. The continual breathy whispers. _Run away. You shouldn’t be here. Run away._  
  
_Run,_ Pidge’s instincts, hammering heart, and edge of fear agree. She runs down the new corridor. She doesn’t have another option.  
  
Her pursuer follows.  
  
She reaches the end of the hall, and there’s only one way to turn. It goes deeper into darkness, and feels like it slants up, but Pidge doesn’t have any other options. Her pursuer is behind her, toying with her, hunting her. If she turns around to face it she’ll die for sure. She plunges into the tunnel, tripping over more of the thick vines in her haste. Her breath comes fast now, and the blood is pounding in her ears. Vaguely, she thinks she hears voices outside of the taunting whispers of her pursuer ( _“Pidge? What’s wrong? C’mon, answer me!”_ ) but it seems inconsequential. She just has to gain a little distance, just enough to catch a breather and get a plan, and—  
  
She skids around another corner and plunges forward, but screeches to a halt almost immediately. The tunnel is gone, and it’s widened into a massive chamber. The vines are nearly as thick as her waist, here, twisting in ragged spirals towards the center of the chamber and into a massive knot of plant-life. Strewn around it everywhere are webs, massive cobwebs that blanket the walls and ceilings like tapestries and stretch six or seven stories above. These, too, twist in a intricate, thick nest in the center, a funnel of webbing that rests just over the plant growth, and something inside seems to throb like a beating heart. The stench is atrocious in here, and Pidge fights the urge to vomit as the smell of death coats her nostrils and her tongue.  
  
And the walls are alive.  
  
They’re coated with _things_ , constantly moving, never at rest. They’re like shadows in motion always, and Pidge only gets a glance of them out of the corner of her eye, or can never _quite_ make out all the details even when she looks straight at them. The moment she looks properly they vanish, darting out of her vision like insects. And some of them are like insects, with long legs and glittering eyes and clicking mandibles that she can _hear_ louder and louder, echoing all around the chamber. But there are other things clinging to the walls and pacing at the corners, too; things with sharp stingers, dripping fangs, leathery wings, snarling jaws, bristling, matted fur, and warped, unnatural muscles. Things that move with preternatural grace or in lurching, pain-filled motions. Things that have no business being alive, or existing at all.  
  
Things that are _hungry._ That, Pidge can feel from them, in their insatiable bloodlust and rabid fury. And their thousands of eyes are on her, always wherever she’s not looking.  
  
Her heart lurches, and she takes a staggering step backwards. It’s too late, they’ve seen her. But her pursuer—  
  
But she hears the laughter again, and those taunting little whispers, and realizes with a moan of horror that the hunter isn’t behind her anymore. The noise comes from the webbed cocoon, and Pidge doesn’t know how, but somehow her pursuer has gotten ahead of her. It’s been _playing_ with her. She’s been at its mercy the whole time. And she’s been chased right to the heart of its lair.  
  
_“Pidge! Pidge, talk to me, c’mon, I’m almost there!”_  
  
The funnel of webbing seems to bulge as whatever is inside begins to force its way out. Pidge feels her stomach twist and something hot and acidic in her throat as her pursuer starts to emerge, unfolding from where it’s crouched within. One long, spider-like leg slides free, drawing delicately along the webs, and then a second, and a third. They seem to be made out of coalesced shadow, and are ever shifting, just barely with form. Pidge feels paralyzed as it crawls free, but those long, clicking legs aren’t attached to any kind of thorax; instead it’s something dark-furred and sleek, vaguely feline, with a long, swishing tail that ends in a stinger. There are too many eyes in odd places all over its head, and all of them stare at her. She can feel the malice and amusement from it as it creeps down the webs and vines towards her, long legs clicking. It opens its mouth to show long, serrated teeth, and buried inside its throat are mandibles that spread wide and claw at the air towards her.  
  
And it _screams._  
  
The noise is high-pitched and piercing. It doesn’t sound like one voice; it sounds like thousands. The noise is enveloping, a cacophony that seems to surround Pidge from all sides. It’s like a needle straight into the center of her brain, stabbing directly into her most primal core with a shot of pure terror. Coherent thought shatters. Her heart hammers. She can feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through her. Her whole body shakes, desperate to move, unable to find the strength to. Her breath chokes in her throat, for one fraction of a second. But then she can _feel_ that raw, primal terror roiling inside her and clawing its way up through her throat, and before she knows it she’s screaming. Screaming until her throat feels raw and she can taste blood and that thing is still coming towards her and she can’t move, _she can’t move—_  
  
_“Pidge! Pidge, I’m here, kiddo, but you gotta tell me where you are!”_  
  
The thing moves. It’s fast, so fast, it disappears into the shadows and she can’t track it with her pathetic human eyes. But the movement startles her into action, too. She throws herself aside, and feels the wind as it skids past her, but it doesn’t grab her.  
  
But that’s not a victory. It’s still hungry. She can _feel_ it. And her mind is screaming and screaming still inside even if her voice has choked to a halt. _Run!_ It shrieks. _Run, run, run, or die, die, die!_  
  
She turns, and bolts out of the chamber door. She doesn’t know where she’s going, other than _away._ Her heart thuds painfully in her chest and her ears. The stench of death still coats her nose and mouth. She staggers over the trailing, thick vines and she can barely see in the dark but she runs and runs and runs.  
  
_“Damn it…Coran, get me a scan of whatever the hell is attacking her! I need to know what I’m up against.”_  
  
_“I’ve been scanning, Shiro, but there’s nothing there! The largest animal is a qurant and they’re herbivores not much bigger than the mice.”_  
  
Run. _Run._ She makes it down the first corridor, stumbles blindly into another one, claws her way up the incline. She can hear it following her now—no, _them._ The living walls are following her now. She can hear all of them chasing. Hear the screams, the clicks, the chatters, the baying, the shrieking. Hear slithering scales and the flap of leathery wings and claws scraping on stone. Feel their bloodlust and their thirst for her fear. But whenever she looks over her shoulder to catch sight of her pursuers she can never quite manage it. They dodge out of sight, play at the corners of her vision, taunting, threatening. Always there. Always coming closer. Always pursuing, running her down to her death.  
  
_“Hold on, Shiro, here’s something. I’m getting strange feedback from her suit. It will track basic biorhythms, and her brainwave functions are definitely spiking.”_  
  
_“Like…like when Shiro was in the pod? Is she having a bad dream or something?”_  
  
The big one, though. That one never bothers to hide. Pidge can _feel_ it following her, chasing relentlessly, but lazily. It pushes her _just_ as much as she can handle and then just a little farther. It plays with her. It enjoys her suffering, her pain, her fear. And it’s never the same whenever she looks back, is always shifting, can’t be pinned down. It slithers along the ground on snakelike body with too many arms, just at the edge of her sight, but when she looks again it’s soaring through the corridors on great rotting black wings. It crawls on the ceiling in its warped not-quite-spider form just overhead, tickling at her neck with its stinger. Then it distorts and drags long scythe-hands along the walls with a high-pitched screech, as it bounds after her upright on warped jackal legs, baying with delight.  
  
_“—smells wrong. Something about the air isn’t right. Helmets closed. Converge on my location now. I’ll find Pidge in here but we may need backup.”_  
  
_“I’m on my way!”_  
  
_“We are too.”_  
  
_“On it!”_  
  
She stumbles down another corridor and trips over more vines that she can barely see in the dark. There isn’t much green light leading the way anymore, and the indicators on her suit are dulled. She shrieks in surprise when she smashes into massive webs ahead of her, and panics when they tangle on her limbs tightly, thick and sticky. She struggles against it, gasping and straining, and pained little whines and whimpers claw their way out of her throat without her conscious thoughts.  
  
The thing behind her laughs. It sounds like screaming, and joins the cacophony in her head.  
  
That spurs her on, all the more frantic. With a wrench, she manages to drag herself free from the webbing. It tears at her shoulder painfully, but she doesn’t care. She’s _free._ She bolts again, and the thing thunders behind her, baying for blood.  
  
She can feel scrabbling little touches on her skin, under her armor. The sensation of things crawling on her is sudden and unbearable. She claws frantically at her neck and beats against her arms, but the crawling persists.  
  
The thing is still laughing. Its voice sounds like screeching now.  
  
She reaches some sort of ending, but there’s another set of ramps, crumbled beyond repair, broken and disheveled. Pidge doesn’t let it stop her. She’s wild with fear and the _thing_ is behind her, and the shadows are still hunting, screeching and howling and always just outside her vision, and she won’t stop and let them take her, she _can’t._ She leaps, catches the very edge of the broken ramp with her fingertips, claws her way up the incline. Something tugs at her boots and tries to drag her back down. She kicks weakly against it, sobbing and digging her fingers into the wood grain for any sort of purchase, and manages to free herself. She scrambles up the top and towards the new hall and—  
  
—and it’s blocked, a dead end, full of collapsed rubble and broken furniture.  
  
_A nice run, morsel. Your fear smells so sweet. Delicious, you’ll be so delicious._ Her pursuer lets out a breathy, hissing laugh. She hears the click-clack of its many legs as it starts to climb after her.  
  
No. No, not this, not like this. She claws frantically at the debris, trying to pry a shattered chair out of the pile to give her space to squirm free. It doesn’t budge. She claws more wildly, fingers scraping painfully, and when it still doesn’t work she starts screaming for help, desperate and yelling the first name that comes to mind when she’s frightened and awful things that shouldn’t exist, do. “Dad! Dad, help me, please, _please—“_  
  
Her father will come, surely. He always does when she’s terrified like this.  
  
He doesn’t.  
  
The clicking grows stronger behind her. There’s scraping on the walls. Things hover in her vision, stalking closer, hungry. The hissing laugh that sounds like a thousand screams gets louder.  
  
_“Matt!”_ she cries, desperate, digging at the rubble. _“Matt, please, please I need help, please—“_  
  
Surely her big brother will come for her. That’s a big brother’s job. He’s never let her down. She needs him so badly, the things are coming closer and she can’t—she can’t—  
  
He doesn’t come, either.  
  
She feels the first brush of a spindly, clawed leg against the back of her neck. Feels hot breath on her back.  
  
_“Shiro!”_ she screams, frantic, voice shaking, half sobbing, _“Please, please, I can’t—it’s—please, Shiro, help me, someone, help—“_  
  
_“—dge, I’m in the building but I need you to give me some kind of clue where to find you, anything, c’mon kiddo—“_  
  
_“Shiro, my sensors indicate she’s at a higher altitude than you. Try the upper floors!”_  
  
_“Right!”_  
  
The thing draws another spindly limb across her armor, this time over her shoulder. She’s terrified to look at it, claws desperately at the rubble. Too late, she notices theres’ a muted green light at her side, and realizes her bayard is still in her hand. She lashes out with it wildly before she realizes what she’s doing, without any coordination, just frantic, mindless. The spindly limbs pull back, and the thing seems annoyed more than anything. She’s terrified of that thing being truly _angry_ , and with a renewed sense of panic turns and slashes at the pile of garbage in her way with her bayard. The mess falls apart just enough for her to squeeze through, and she feels the _thing_ swipe at her back as she disappears through the cracks.  
  
It screams after her, and stabs another burst of bright, white-hot terror straight into her brain. She doesn’t see it start to melt through the cracks behind her, like formless shadow. She’s too far gone in her own fear. The hallways are distorted, tilted alarmingly; she can’t keep her balance and trips over the vines strewn in her path. Her vision is blurred. All she can hear is screaming, but it sounds warped and distorted, like a broken record underwater. She can feel the crawling of _things_ on her, under her armor and in her hair and over her face. She can hear the things pursuing, see them just out the corner of her eyes, see slavering jaws and sharp claws, smell the ghastly scents of blood and death.  
  
They’ll run her into the ground here.  
  
She runs anyway. She doesn’t know how to do anything else. She runs, and she gasps, and when she has a little breath left, she begs. “Please… _please,_ someone, please _help me_ —“  
  
_“—coming Pidge, just hang on—“_  
  
The screaming grows louder. Her pursuer is back. It laughs at her distress.  
  
She bursts out of the tunnel and into an open chamber. It isn’t the same one as before—the mass of plant matter isn’t there, and it’s coated in webbing but lacks that intricate cocoon. But it’s full of _things_ like the other. The walls are coated with monsters, a solid writhing mass of shifting shadows and rotting bodies, whiplike limbs and gnashing teeth and beady, intense eyes. They swarm down the walls towards her as soon as she’s in sight, wild and screaming and hungry.  
  
_“—got a visual on Pidge! She just ran out of one of the halls. Top floor.”_  
  
_“Still on our way. ETA is five dobashes.”_  
  
_“Six for me.”_  
  
_“Eight here.”_  
  
The things keep coming, and there’s no way out. They swarm, but Pidge can’t go back. _It’s_ back there. Waiting. Hungry. She doesn’t know what she’s doing any more. She just runs because she’s terrified, and she doesn’t know what else to do, and stopping means death. Her legs are shaking and she’s tired and her heart is thudding painfully and the stench of decay is foul in her nose and tastes awful on her tongue and her vision is blurred with terror but she _runs._  
  
_“Pidge, wait—no, Pidge, don’t—PIDGE! STOP NOW!”_  
  
The monsters cycle and swarm and flit out of her eyes, always on the edge of her vision, stalking and taunting and starving, but then one isn’t. It launches at her with a howl, and it’s massive. It’s all long, serrated teeth in a too-large mouth, with rotting black scales and powerful muscled arms and claws like spears. For one fraction of a second its glowing blue eyes bore into hers, and then it crashes into her from the side, too-long arms wrapping around her. They hit the ground, Pidge thudding on top of the beast as they twist at the impact.  
  
Pidge goes _wild._  
  
Terror courses through her because _it has her it has her it has her_ and she fights like a mad thing. Her bayard is gone and she doesn’t know when she dropped it, so she thrashes, kicks, claws, bites, screams, anything she can, _anything,_ just make it let go, _let go, let go of her, she needs to run, she needs to run, she needs to get away, get away get away get away—_  
  
_“Pidge, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just me, it’s Shiro—Pidge, calm down, easy, it’s okay—“_  
  
—but she can’t break free, and the beast doesn’t let go. It rolls them upright and wraps one of its long arms around her own, locking them down at her sides, pinning her against its torso. Its grip is like iron and she can’t free herself no matter how hard she thrashes. She smashes her head back against its chest, but its scales are thick and unrelenting, and it doesn’t budge. She wrenches her torso against it and struggles and kicks, but her heels glance off equally thick leg scales and she gasps as pain spikes through her shoulder, and the beast _screams_ in her ear, loud and howling and strong enough to send a spike of terror through her again—  
  
_“—op, you’ll hurt yourself, calm down Pidge, it’s okay, it’s just me, c’mon kiddo—“_  
  
—and she gags at the noise and the stench of the creature and struggles against its strength, but her own strength is starting to fail her now. She’s tired and shaking and her heart is still pounding and god she’s so _scared_ she can’t stop and this thing won’t let her go she’s going to die _she’s going to die_ they’re going to eat her alive there’s nothing she can do they have her they have her _they have her—_  
  
“Please,” she begs uselessly, half strained scream, half sob, “Please, please, Dad, Matt, Shiro, please, somebody, _somebody—“_  
  
_“I’m right here Pidge, everything’s okay, I promise—“_  
  
The thing screeches in her ear again, and she struggles weakly against it, straining again against the iron grip of its massive right claw. It shifts and wraps that arm even more firmly around her arms and chest, pinning her more securely, and she feels cold dread because she can’t move at all, she’s not strong enough, she _can’t_ —and then it raises its left arm and its massive spear-like claws reach for her face, sharp and stained and gouging straight for her eyes—  
  
“No!”  
  
—but they don’t shred her skin and tear out her eyes. They move so fast she doesn’t catch the full movement, but suddenly the claws are under her visor and pressed over her eyes and—  
  
—and they don’t feel like spurs of bone, don’t cut into her skin. It feels like the texture of cloth, and they aren’t claws anymore, they’re _fingers._  
  
Pidge freezes on primal, fight-or-flight instinct, whole body tense and heart fluttering wildly.  
  
Things are… _different_ suddenly, when she can’t see. It should be _worse,_ should be more frightening, when she can’t see the things slipping at edges of her vision and chasing her and pinning her in place. The ever present threat of something looming in the darkness that she can’t get a proper visual on should be enough to send her screaming. But it feels _different_ this way. Just slightly less real. She an still hear the screaming in her head, in the chamber, still smell that awful stench of death, still feel that crawling sensation, but it all feels muted when she can’t _see_ the things it’s connected to. It’s still there, but distorted, fragments her brain can’t quite make sense of.  
  
She starts to shake. She doesn’t understand what’s happening, and _that_ alone is a whole new kind of terrifying.  
  
“Easy. Easy, Pidge. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You’re safe, I promise. You with me? Pidge?”  
  
That voice. It’s close; she can feel the reverberations of speech against her head. It sounds slightly distorted, and it takes her a second to realize it’s because she’s hearing it over the comms as well as much closer. It takes her a second longer to make the connection. “Sh…shiro?”  
  
“That’s right. There we go. Good job, Pidge.” Shiro’s voice is soothing; there’s a calmness to it that Pidge can’t even fathom right now. The arm pinning her squeezes gently for just a second. Far away, distantly, she thinks that maybe _Shiro_ is the one holding her. That the monster is gone, some how—  
  
_Monsters!_  
  
She struggles against his grip, trying to shake his hand free of her eyes, push away his other arm. The thing is still out there it’s coming _it’s coming she can hear it screaming for her she can hear all of them—_  
  
“Woah! Woah, easy, Pidge. Sssh, calm down. It’s okay—“  
  
“No,” she gasps, “No, no, no, they’re coming, _it’s_ coming, they’re all over, they’re on the walls and the ceiling and in the halls and they’re coming they’ll kill you they’ll kill us both we need to _run—“_  
  
“Ssssh, Pidge.” Shiro’s too strong for her to fight, but he’s gentle and careful as he keeps her firmly pinned against his armor. “Sssh, there’s nothing here. There’s no danger, Pidge. I promise. You’re safe. We’re okay.”  
  
His voice is so calm, but it’s strong. It stifles the distorted screaming, drowns out the hunting howls and the scrape and click of claws.  
  
But she can still hear them. She can still feel things crawling over her skin. She can feel _it_ coming closer. She shakes uncontrollably, and tries feebly to move, this time to pull away and shrink back from the noises. “No—no, they’re coming, they’re so hungry, they’re so _hungry—“_  
  
“Pidge,” Shiro cuts her off, still speaking in the same controlled tone, “Whatever you’re seeing, whatever you’re hearing or feeling, I promise, _it isn’t real_. There’s nothing here. I swear it. Okay?  Do you trust me?”  
  
Does she trust Shiro? Of course she does. She knows that much, even in the middle of being hunted by these _things_. If…if he says they’re not real, they must not be real, but…  
  
…but oh, god, they _feel_ real, they _sound_ real, she’s felt them clawing at her and felt their breaths and she can _smell_ them and even now she can hear them pacing around her and Shiro, shifting ever closer, slinking closer to their helpless prey—  
  
“Sssh, it’s okay. There’s nothing here. It’s not real. It’s all okay.”  
  
“F-feels real,” she manages to stammer.  
  
“I know, kiddo. We’ll figure it out. I’ll stay right here with you until then, okay? I promise.”  
  
She still can’t see—Shiro’s hand is still covering her eyes—so she gropes around blindly with her hands, reaching for something to hold onto. Her arms are pinned to her sides by Shiro’s arm, but he shifts it carefully to give her a little movement now that she’s not fighting him. She manages to find his wrist, and squeezes. There’s no give—his wrist and hand are solid and inflexible beneath the thin glove, and it takes Pidge a second to realize this is the _right_ arm, the prosthetic.  
  
But that’s…that’s _better._ She can feel it, metal just beneath the paladin armor’s glove, feel the odd indentations and protrusions where there are panels and screws and tiny gaps in the joints. It doesn’t feel completely human, but it doesn’t feel _organic_ at all, either. It’s a thing purely of technology and science and reason, where this whole nightmarish _place_ has been something living warped into something evil. It’s out of place in this twisted palace full of hideous creatures and distorted plant life and organic matter. It doesn’t belong—and that means it’s the only thing that feels _real._  
  
Pidge clings to that hand with a strength born of desperation, squeezing the metal fingers as hard as she can. They’re strong enough to handle the pressure, and the touch of metal in this world where it doesn’t exist is comforting. And a tiny part of Pidge feels awful for taking comfort from something that causes Shiro so much frustration, but the rest of her is too scared and frantic and desperate for any sort of comfort to care.  
  
And Shiro, to his credit, lets her hold on to his arm without complaint. He adjusts his grip enough to make her more comfortable, and turns the metal wrist just enough that she can hold onto his hand without difficulty, curling his fingers around hers carefully. The thumb runs across the back of her hand gently, in soothing little circles, and it seems to help fight against the awful sensations of things skittering over her skin.  
  
“I’m right here,” he repeats, his voice patient. “I’m not going anywhere. Everything’s going to be fine, Pidge.”  
  
She shudders at the screams and the sensations of movement still around her, but she trusts Shiro. Shiro is safe. He’ll protect her. If he says there’s no danger, then she’ll do her best to believe him. It’s _hard,_ it all feels so _real,_ but she’ll try. She burrows as close as she can against his armor and clings to his metal and hand fights with everything she has to ignore the _things_ around her.  
  
“That’s good, Pidge. Keep fighting. You’re doing great. Now I need you to work with me on something, okay? I’m going to take my hand away—“  
  
_“No!”_ she chokes, before she can stop herself. She can’t see those things again. _She can’t._ She won’t be able to keep her eyes closed, hearing them pacing closer, if she knows they’re there she has to look to protect herself, _she has to—_  
  
“Sssh, Pidge, it’s fine. I’m not leaving and I’m still going to help you. But we need to get that helmet closed again, okay? We think something in the air is making you see things. I don’t want you breathing any more of this stuff.”  
  
“I c-can’t see them, Shiro, please, I don’t want to, they’ll keep coming closer, they’ll kill us, please—“ Her breathing gets faster against her will, and she gasps, trying to choke down even a few breaths.  
  
“Okay. Okay, how about this? Coran, can you activate Pidge’s training helm?”  
  
_“Certainly. Excellent idea, Shiro. Training helm activated…now.”_  
  
There’s a quiet little noise in her ear, and Pidge twitches slightly in reaction. Shiro murmurs soothingly to her, and then says, “There, the visor’s black. You won’t be able to see anything even when I take my hand away, okay? Are you ready?”  
  
_No,_ she thinks internally, she’ll never be ready, she can’t, she _can’t_ risk seeing those things, letting them drive her wild again, she _can’t_. She trembles in fear, but Shiro squeezes her hand very carefully with his own metal one in reassurance. She swallows, and then whispers in a shaking voice, “Yes.”  
  
“Okay. Here we go.” The hand falls away, and for a moment she keeps her eyes squeezed shut, terrified of what she might see when she opens them. She’s found Shiro’s voice, and she’s so scared that if she opens her eyes that massive, scaly black _thing_ with the too big mouth and the spear like claws will be there and she’ll be trapped in its grip, and she’ll lose Shiro, and realize she’s really trapped in a nightmare. And she can’t bear that, she can’t.  
  
But her own nerves force her to wrench her eyes open, desperate and frightened, and she sees—nothing. Complete blackness. Just like before.  
  
“That’s it, kiddo,” Shiro encourages. “See, you’re still fine. It’s still not real, and everything is okay. Now let’s close that helm, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” she whispers. It’s hard to concentrate enough to activate it, but a moment later the Altean technology kicks in, and the mouthpiece activates, sealing her off from the planet’s atmosphere. Almost immediately the stench diminishes slightly, although she can still taste it in her mouth.  
  
The fear doesn’t diminish at all. She wonders if it’s ever going to again.  
  
“Good job,” Shiro says encouragingly. “That’s it. Now just hang on, Pidge. We’ll figure this out. I promise. Everyone else is on their way to help, and I’ll be here with you the whole time. Just try to stay calm, okay?”  
  
She tries, but it’s hard. It’s _really_ hard. Even with Shiro telling her none of it is real, it’s hard to believe. She feels terrified, even if there’s no reason for it; it’s like something’s flipped a switch in her brain and she can’t turn it off, no matter what she tells herself. She can still hear the noises of the things around her. The pursuer she can hear pacing and laughing, crawling over the ceiling and the walls, clicking and scraping and slithering. She can feel things touching at her, insects wandering over her skin and thin tendrils of shadow drifting across the back of her neck. She can still smell that awful stench of death, even with the helmet completely closed off. Her heart still pounds painfully in her chest, and her breath is fast and shallow, and she can never seem to get quite enough air.  
  
But Shiro helps her fight it. His metal palm is grounding, a reminder of what _is_ real. The touch of it is surprisingly gentle and careful, doesn’t hurt or frighten like the things attacking her. It’s difficult to show any kind of comfort in the paladin armor, when touch is limited, but Shiro’s adjusted his left arm protectively around her in a loose hug, and it’s enough to remind her she’s not alone. She burrows her head as best she can against what she thinks might be his shoulder, and clings tightly, and at least she knows that even if nothing else around her is safe right now, Shiro _is_. And he talks to her and doesn’t stop, and his voice is always so calm, so controlled. It’s all soothing nonsense, little shushes and assurances that things are okay and none of it’s real, but it means the world to her.  
  
There’s only one point when that changes. Pidge isn’t sure how much time has passed. Time doesn’t exist in a nightmare. But she knows when she feels a soft touch at her leg, more crawling, more laughing, more screaming. _Not real,_ she tells herself desperately, _it’s not real, it’s not real, Shiro said so, it’s not real._ But Shiro’s words stop suddenly, and she feels him shifting. There’s a brief moment of silence before he begins again, but even that little change is enough to send a frantic spike of alarm through Pidge.  
  
And then that alarm ramps up even further when Shiro tugs at his metal wrist gently, trying to pry it away from her hand.  
  
“No!” Pidge hisses, clinging harder. “No, don’t, don’t leave me here, don’t leave me alone, I can’t do this alone, don’t let go, I can’t—“  
  
“Pidge, hush, it’s okay. I would never leave you, I swear. Ssh. It’s okay. I just need that hand for thirty seconds. Okay? I’ll still be right here. Nobody’s going anywhere.”  
  
She’s not sure she believes it. She’s so scared if she lets go of the _one_ thing she knows is unequivocally real it’s going to disappear and take Shiro with it. She can’t be alone in this hellhole, she _can’t._  
  
But Shiro wouldn’t lie to her. _He wouldn’t._  
  
_Unless he’s not real either,_ the pursuer whispers to her, all hissing words and clicking legs and slithering scales. _Unless you’re imagining him, too, little morsel, to try and protect yourself. Poor little dinner. So deliciously scared. So wonderfully mad with fear. Insane enough to conjure friends to try and protect herself. Let me help you with that, little morsel. It will only hurt for a little while._ Its laughter is harsh, grating like nails on a chalkboard and howling winds.  
  
Pidge trembles, and burrows as close as she can to Shiro, willing him to be real. _Please be real. Please. Please._ And the way his left arm curls more protectively around her _can’t_ be faked. It _has_ to be real. Right?  
  
“It’s okay, Pidge,” he says. “It’s all okay. It’s going to be fine. Just a few seconds, okay?”  
  
She swallows, mouth dry and tasting like death. She doesn’t want to, but she lets go of his metal hand.  
  
“That’s it.” She feels his other arm squeeze around her shoulders reassuringly, hears the reassuring click and whir of gears as the metal prosthetic moves. She feels Shiro lean slightly to the right, and for a moment she stirs with panic, thinking he really _is_ leaving her. But his left arm doesn’t throw her away, and she ends up leaning with him.  
  
Then there’s a sudden, awful sizzling noise, and the new scent of something burning reaches Pidge even through the suit’s filters. Something twitches against her leg, the pursuer snarls, and the screaming in her head intensifies for a second, and then fades ever so slightly. She starts in surprise, breath growing harsh again, and reaches out frantically for something, _anything_ to hold on to. The metal palm meets her hand again, fingers curling patiently around her own once more, and she clings to it with a freshly desperate grip. It feels warmer than before, but not painfully so.  
  
“That’s it. All done. That wasn’t so bad, see? Easy, Pidge. C’mon, let’s try to calm down, ssssh, try breathing with me, okay…”  
  
She struggles to follow along with him, breathing in and out when he coaches her to, and when she can feel his own breaths against her side. It’s so hard, one of the hardest things she’s ever done. But she tries, and Shiro encourages, and she manages to settle her breathing at least a little, and slow her heartbeat slightly.  
  
It doesn’t stop the creatures. They’re still pacing, clicking, clawing, screaming, drawing ever closer, becoming more frustrated, more _hungry._ Shiro talks to her again through through all of it, drowning out the screams and snarls, helping her mind stay focused away from them. She struggles to listen, and that calmness is so comforting, so grounding. She clings to his voice mentally and to his hand physically and just does her best to hold on.  
  
Eventually she realizes he isn’t always speaking to her. There are times when she thinks he’s speaking to the others. But even then he still maintains that same calm, even tone. The others are a little more frantic, and that sends spikes of panic through her and makes her shift fearfully and shake harder, but Shiro always responds with so much control, and it settles her again.  
  
_“What is this place? Holy crow, it’s totally falling apart! Where are you guys?”_  
  
“Top floor. There’s a balcony thing that overlooks the main foyer. Don’t forget your helmets.”  
  
_“Already sealed, Shiro. Coran, you got visuals?”_  
  
_“I do, and…quiznak. No wonder Pidge’s brainwaves are spiking. Those are Bleeding Aster vines!”_  
  
_“Bleeding what now?”_  
  
_“It’s a carnivorous plant. It releases microscopic spores into the air that causes an extreme fear response in its target. It waits for its prey to wear itself out in fear, and then feeds. It really gains nourishment from the chemical and quintessal responses to fear. But Bleeding Aster aren’t even native to this planet!”_  
  
Pidge shudders. Shiro rubs her arm soothingly with his left hand, squeezes her fingers gently with his own metal ones in his right, and murmurs to her quietly until she settles.  
  
_“It must have fallen here somehow, or been transported. Just like the Baku thing when we visited the mermaids.”_  
  
_“If that is so, this is becoming distressingly common. Interplanetary transfers should not occur like this.”_  
  
_“Never mind that, if it’s hurting Pidge how do we stop it?”_  
  
_“Finding the Bleeding Aster’s mass and destroying it should be enough to prevent future issues. I have an antidote I can create for the effects Pidge is dealing with. I’ll start preparing it immediately.”_  
  
Pidge trembles again, and once again Shiro squeezes her hand gently. “Pidge isn’t in any condition to move, even if I were to carry her.”  
  
_“I’ll go get the antidote then. The Red Lion is the fastest, we can get there and back in no time.”_  
  
“Good. Keith, get that antidote now. Lance, Hunk, work with the princess, see if you can find that thing and take it down. Be careful.”  
  
_“On it!”_  
  
_“Stupid plant’s gonna regret messing with Pidge.”_  
  
_“Listen closely you two, there are a few other details about the Bleeding Aster you’ll need to know…”_  
  
Allura’s voice disappears as she takes the conversation to a different frequency, and Shiro’s voice immediately fills the gap before the screaming in Pidge’s ears can overpower her senses again. “Get that, Pidge? Just hold on a little longer. All you have to do is keep staying calm and hanging in there and we’ll take care of everything else, okay?”  
  
She doesn’t feel like she’s being particularly calm. She’s so _scared._ She wishes she could _stop_ being scared, but nothing she does makes that feeling of pure terror buried in her head go away. “Can’t,” she whimpers. “Too much, too real…”  
  
“You can do it, Pidge. I know you can. And I’m still here. I’ll help.”  
  
And he does. He stays with her the whole time, holds her protectively and talks to her soothingly, and she curls as close as she can and clings to his metal arm and his voice and just tries to hold on like he asked. He talks to her over the screaming and the pursuer’s laughter and spitting and ranting, he drowns out the noises of the things around her.  
  
When the screaming around her intensifies suddenly, and she screams in turn and thrashes, he holds her tightly against himself and talks her through it. “It’s okay, Pidge, it’s okay, they’re fighting it now, ssh, it’s going to be over in a second and it won’t be able to hurt you after that, hush, it’s almost over…”  
  
And when she feels the presence of others around her, too close and too real, he reassures her. “It’s okay, Pidge. That’s the others, and Keith’s here now, too. He brought the antidote. The princess is going to give it to you in a second, so she’ll have to get close, and it might sting for a bit. I promise nothing is trying to hurt you. Those things aren’t real. Okay?”  
  
“Okay,” she agrees, voice shaky. She hears ominous scraping footsteps, and the touch at her neck feels like the pursuer’s claws and spines and tendrils, and she can’t help but shake. But Shiro squeezes her hand reassuringly again, and she tries to stay still. There’s a sharp prick at her neck that causes her to dig her fingers hard into Shiro’s metal wrist, but it doesn’t relent under the pressure, and after the moment the stinging fades.  
  
It takes a few minutes for whatever Allura does to settle in, but then Pidge starts to notice it. First with the sensation of things crawling on her vanishing, until the only thing she can feel is Shiro’s metal hand holding hers, and the arm around her shoulders. Then the noise fading, as the screaming and howling and sounds of movement start to distort and grow quieter, until they sound like they’re coming from a far-away radio being turned down and finally off. The feeling of constant, ever-present fear in her head starts to fade next, and her breath and heartbeat slow with it. She’s still aware of being afraid, but it’s more like a recent memory of a bad nightmare, now, and not something terrifying she’s actively living through.  
  
It’s exhausting, but for all that she does feel better. Not _good,_ certainly, but she’s not lost in that screaming panic where she can barely focus or think or figure out what she’s seeing. She feels the tension drain out of her whole body, and doesn’t realize how much of it she was carrying until the moment she slumps in place. She feels wrung out, hollow, like the weakness one has after being sick, but she knows it’s possible to get better.  
  
Except…except there’s one thing she’s not sure of yet. She won’t know for _sure_ she’s better until she can look with her eyes and see what’s _really_ there. And she’s still a little afraid to try and find out. Afraid of what she might see if she _isn’t_ better.  
  
But no. _No._ These…this stupid Bleeding Aster had messed with her long enough. She isn’t being driven mad with fear by its spores now, physically and mentally unable to see reason or fight back. Yeah, maybe she’s still a little afraid, but she’s _herself_ again too. She might be afraid, but she can fight it, like she does every time she goes on a mission. She can do this. She _can._  
  
So she lifts her head, and manages to say, “Eyes.” Her throat is raspy and hoarse from screaming. It sounds awful, and speaking hurts a little.  
  
But they get the idea, and Shiro says, “Coran, can you remove the training helm blackout?”  
  
Coran answers with action, and the blackness parts. Pidge winces a little at how bright the world is suddenly, and curls her head away reflexively. It’s actually not really that bright, she realizes after a moment, but compared to the darkness she’s been seeing for the past…however long…it’s certainly startling.  
  
Her eyes adjust after a few minutes, though, and she’s able to blink them into focus and get a proper look at her surroundings.  
  
The paladins and Allura are all standing around her. Each of them are wearing their helmets, fully closed, and each one stares down at her with a worried expression. She realizes next that she’s down on the floor, and practically in Shiro’s lap, curled against him and still clinging to his metal arm like it’s some kind of technological security blanket. She flushes a little at that, embarrassed. She’s fighting constantly to prove she’s not a child and perfectly capable of handling herself, yet now here she is, clinging to Shiro at the first sign of something scary, and with everyone watching. How pathetic.  
  
She glances at her surroundings next, trying to take her mind off of her embarrassment. And she’s stunned at what she sees. The massive chamber she remembers being in last, when the monster-that-was-Shiro had tackled her, was gone. So are the webs, and the monster-coating on the walls. Nothing flickers in and out of her vision or taunts her out of the corners of her eyes. The pursuer isn’t hiding on the ceiling or crawling on the walls, doesn’t touch her, doesn’t taunt her. The floor is still coated with vines, but they look gray and dead now. Several of the vines closer to her and Shiro look suspiciously blackened, twisted and shriveled, with burn scars in the shape of fingers trailing over them.  
  
And the rest of the floor—isn’t. What _had_ been a massive chamber is mostly a balcony overlooking the alcove and front door ten stories below, with crumbling handrails that don’t look like they would take even her weight for a second. But the chamber of the nightmares had _filled_ this place. There had been floor there out in open space, and she had been running towards it, and then—  
  
—and then the monster, _Shiro_ , had tackled her from the side. They were sitting back against one of the walls, now, barely three feet from the edge. A sick feeling of realization hits Pidge, and her heart drops into her stomach. If she’d kept going, she never would have thought to use her jetpack, not in the place her mind had been taken. She’d have dropped ten stories to almost certain death.  
  
“I almost—“ She stares at the edge, and swallows hard. “Shiro…thanks.”  
  
“Any time,” Shiro says, with a tired smile. “You okay? Can you stand?”  
  
Pidge’s whole body feels shaky from the ordeal, but she’s had enough of sitting around and being carried through something she can’t handle. More than anything else, at this moment she craves independence. “I’ve got it,” she says.  
  
Lance offers her a hand to pull her up, and she sways a little on her feet, but once there she manages to hold on her own. Keith helps Shiro to his feet as well, and Shiro absently kicks off a few burnt and blackened vines wrapped around his foot and lower leg. Pidge grimaces at that. This….this Bleeding Aster thing had been after _her,_ but it had tried to go after Shiro too because of that. She’s almost viciously pleased to see Shiro got the upper hand in that match, at least.  
  
“I vote we get out of here,” Hunk says, once everyone is on their feet. “Even if we killed that Bleeding Aster thing, this place gives me the creeps.”  
  
“Agreed,” Pidge says, and she’s absurdly proud that she manages to keep her voice from shaking. She wants nothing more to do with this awful place.  
  
Allura sighs. “It is unfortunate to see such a noble palace fallen into such disrepair,” she says sadly, “but I suppose there is little we can do for it, and little to find here. The Bleeding Aster’s presence would have caused most things to decay by now. I doubt we will find any records.”  
  
The others hum in agreement. Lance in particular looks quite happy at the prospect of getting out of there. Pidge doesn’t blame him, and makes a mental note to never make fun of Lance for his superstitions about ghosts and haunted places again. It’s not a fun way to live, and it’s even less fun when people don’t take you seriously, she’s sure.  
  
They make their way out, leaping the balconies and activating their jetpacks to descend slowly. Hunk carries Allura down, since her combat suit lacks the packs, while Lance and Keith fall on either side of them. Shiro gives Pidge an _after you_ gesture, and she can tell he wants to follow after to keep an eye on her.  
  
She feels half embarrassed and half grateful for that.  
  
But before she goes she takes advantage of the moment alone while she’s _lucid_ , and says, “Um…Shiro? I, uh…I’m sorry.”  
  
He tilts his head slightly. “For what?”  
  
“It was stupid to freak out so much over something that wasn’t even real,” Pidge says bluntly. Now that the whole fiasco is more of a memory—recent and heart pounding, but in the past—and her more logical, rational thoughts have worked their way back to the surface, it really does feel stupid. She feels like she should have known better. She’d known it wasn’t real from the beginning, but she’d let herself forget. Even when Shiro had been _telling_ her it wasn’t real, she hadn’t been able to comprehend it. And that was just foolish.  
  
But Shiro shakes his head. “Don’t apologize, Pidge. It was real enough to you. Sometimes that’s all that matters.”  
  
There’s something in the way he says it that makes Pidge realize, with a sudden jolt, he’s speaking from experience. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so stupid. Because if even _Shiro_ can be blindsided like that…well. Maybe her own failure wasn’t as monumental as it felt.  
  
She hesitates for only a second before throwing her arms around his waist in a quick hug. “Thanks,” she whispers. “For just…being there.”  
  
She can feel the pressure of his hand on top of her helmet, even if she can’t feel the contact. “I promised, didn’t I?” he says lightly, but she can tell the words are serious. “You were strong enough to handle it, Pidge. You just needed a little help, that’s all.”  
  
She grins up at him—a tired, shaky smile, but a real one all the same—and then finally lets go and leaps off the balcony. This time, it’s with purpose, and she floats down on her jetpack and touches down gently on the old wooden floors next to Hunk. She doesn’t bother to hide her eagerness to get out of that palace, and bounds out into the open air.  
  
The Green Lion is waiting for her, to her surprise. She’d left the Lion in a completely different area in the tree city. The Red Lion is a little ways distant on the same massive branch, and Pidge swears it almost sullen about not being able to land closer to the action.  
  
“I think the Green Lion was worried about you,” Keith tells her. “She was pacing out here when the rest of us arrived, and again when I left to get Red to grab your antidote. I think the only thing that stopped her from busting through the palace was the risk of it collapsing.”  
  
The Green Lion seems to growl in agreement as her head lowers towards Pidge. “Aw, worried about me, were you girl?” She says, reaching out to place her hand against the Lion’s white muzzle. “It’s okay. I’m all right now.”  
  
And as she finally opens her helm and gets her first breath of fresh air since the incident, and as she glances over at Shiro and the others and then up at her Lion once more, she realizes that she really means it.

**Author's Note:**

> Fear gas is one of my favorite things about the Batman universe, and I wanted to find a way to integrate it into Voltron at least once. Cue carnivorous man-eating plants, because why not? (So…I guess there’s some Poison Ivy in there too). 
> 
> If you are one of my old One Piece readers you may have spotted a few cameos in here! Hope you enjoyed them :)
> 
> EDIT:  
> Now has some AMAZING art that you should totally check out!  
> http://harseik.tumblr.com/post/159326025649/completed-for-the-lovable-velkynkarma-pictured


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